


The Strength of Red Thread

by Renee_Lytle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Destiel - Freeform, Fate, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Magic, Multi, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 13:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renee_Lytle/pseuds/Renee_Lytle
Summary: "An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break."Rowena seeks out Niya, the entity who controls the red strings of fate, to help Dean and Sam on a case but what she ends up finding is far more upsetting than she'd ever admit.





	The Strength of Red Thread

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by this post: http://nightingalefeminist.tumblr.com/post/179717717398/ahoyspn-because-you-could-have-loved-me
> 
> Also, there's tags indicating things that aren't in this chapter but they will be things that come up in preceding chapters. I'll change any tags as I post them. Thanks!

When Rowena opened her eyes she was no longer in her room at the Men of Letter’s bunker. Niya must’ve heard her call. She’d been to Niya’s home before but it always took her breath away. The Red-Fated Woman wasn’t really a woman at all, Niya was far too old for that, but when she manifested for those who called she took the same form in the same place she always did. Rowena was never sure if she was simply on a different plane in the same world she left, or if she was truly pulled somewhere she could scarcely fathom.

 

Niya’s room was massive and just as endless as the universe itself. There didn’t seem to be a ceiling the walls just rose up until they were lost in shadow. It reminded Rowena of the The Long Room at Trinity College; there was a walkway of polished wood in the middle and to either side were shelves upon shelves just bursting with books and loose papers. She always ended up in the room without entering through any kind of door and she always seemed to be in the middle, with no end in sight either before or behind her, although she wasn’t sure there was even an end to be had.

 

Stacks of books almost as tall as Rowena herself were piled next to plush armchairs or oak tables and you couldn’t walk in a straight line anywhere in the place. The air was warm but not stifling and a very fine layer of dust hung suspend in the air. Rowena was usually adverse to dusty places but the dust here seemed to move around you and never settled on your skin or stuck in your nose. As peculiar as the dust’s behavior was, it was nothing compared to the tens of thousands of red strings that hung suspended in the air.

 

The first time Rowena came to this place she was uncertain on how to even move about the great room. Lengths of soft-looking red thread took up all the space not already occupied by books or couches. They differed in length and width but they all looked like they were made of the same material, which looked to Rowena like yarn. Some were draped loosely, floating in the air like the bottom half of bows. Others were stretched tighter and looked like someone had taken a knife and slashed through the very fabric of the air so it bled. Every once in a while Rowena saw one that was stretched and fraying at the edges, straining against an unseen force. More rare were ones that were tangled into knots and hung in the air like bleeding hearts. 

 

Instead of getting tangled within the threads however she had moved through them with ease. At first she wasn’t sure how she was managing to not even come near them, there were so many, but as she passed by one she reached out a hand to see how soft the thread was and it moved away from her hand. No matter how fast she moved or where she went the lengths of string moved around her as though there was a force field around her.

 

Now she was seemingly in the same place as she always was when she came here but it was hard to tell, she never remembered many details about the room. Whenever she left this place the finer points of her visit got hazy around the edges like a dream; the more she tried to chase the memories the farther they fled from her mind.

 

“Rowena!” came Niya’s voice from behind her. 

 

She turned to see the, well Rowena didn’t know what she was exactly, coming toward her with arms outstretched. The form Niya always took was that of a petite woman in her early forties with silver hair that hung almost to her waist. Sometimes her hair was up in intricate braids with baubles and jewels threaded in that jingled when she moved. If Rowena were to see Niya in her own world she’d call her a hippy, but here, wherever here was, she was exactly as she was supposed to be.

 

Niya embraced her familiar scent of spiced orange tea wafted around them. Rowena took in a contented breath. As odd as Niya and the room were, they filled Rowena with a sense of calm every time she came here, which wasn’t often anymore. There was a time when her and Niya spent many days together talking or reading silently next to each other. Many times she’d even stayed the night with the delectable creature, although Rowena was sure there was not such an easy concept of time in this realm.

 

“It’s been too long my love,” Rowena said.

 

“How long has it been for you?”

 

Rowena gave an amused laugh and Niya gave a small giggle. “That’s almost as bad as asking a woman how old she is.”

 

“Age is a mortal concept and has no place here,” Niya said with a grin. 

 

Barely managing not to roll her eyes Rowena said “almost a century.”

 

“I remember when you used to visit me at least every decade or so,” Niya said as she turned and started away. “Follow me please.”

 

Rowena trailed just behind her as she made her way through the stacks of books and papers slowly. As always the strings never touched them yet she still expected to feel a brush against her arm or face and every once in a while her skin twitched with unmet expectancy. She didn’t question Niya’s lead and only smiled when she saw that the ancient entity was walking defty around everything with her nose in a book. Rowena wasn’t sure where the book had even come from but she also wasn’t about to ask, some magic was best left to the imagination, if she knew how everything worked there wouldn’t be any wonder left to think about in the world.

 

“Why are we walking?”

 

Niya stopped and turned, lowering her book, and leveled a gaze at Rowena. “Have you forgotten me so easily?”

 

She shut the book with a snap and then it was simply gone. It was then too that Rowena remembered the creature’s penchant for trying to be as human as possible. It was likely that Niya kept this form and this room even when no one was visiting. The poor thing wanted nothing more than to be human and Rowena could see why; she didn’t nothing but bring people together all alone in her corner of the universe.

 

“I did not want to disorient you, it has been so long since you have been in this realm.” Rowena didn’t miss the stab at guilt but she didn’t respond.

 

There was a sharp pull all along Rowena’s body like her skin was being lifted off the muscle, and then she was standing, breathless and shaking, in a dimly lit alcove somewhere in the endless room. Old books lined the shelves but there were no loose papers in between them and no stacks of books on the floor. An old armchair sat next to a tall window with perfectly square panes. It was dark out the window and Rowena felt like if she pressed her face against it to see what was ‘outside’ she might lose her mind. She wasn’t a mortal but that didn’t mean she was equipped to handle the truth of where she was.

 

Niya reached past her and pulled on the metal chain dangling from the bottom of the lamp. In front of the chair, only inches from Rowena’s arm, was a thick red thread. It was pulled tight and angled from the foot of the chair up to the top of the opposite bookshelf. The more Rowena focused on it the more she could see the parts where the string was worn. Impossibly thin tendrils of blood red material hung from several places along the length, some almost touching the floor, and it reminded her of broken hairs on a violin bow.

Rowena stepped closer to it and was surprised when it didn’t move away. The very middle of it held the worst of the damage; nothing but a hair-width of thread kept the thing together. It was pulled so tight that it vibrated in the air.

 

“How has it not snapped yet?” Rowena heard herself ask.

 

Niya sighed dreamily behind her. “The red thread of fate is strong. It is rare that one will actually break.”

 

A shiver ran down Rowena’s arms as she looked at it. The string looked almost blurry it was thrumming so violently. “But it does happen?”

 

“It has before and it will again.”

 

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest although she wasn’t sure why. Niya had led her here without asking why she’d come in the first place. Maybe the creature always knew what her visitors wanted from her before they had a chance to think it themselves, she was in charge of fated love after all. Well, if this was the thread she was after then Sam and Dean were in for a hell of a time. 

 

They were working a case that somehow involved two people who were meant to be together but hadn’t met because of a witches curse. Normally this wouldn’t be something the boys would even bother with, not since they were still dealing with the aftermath of Michael’s creature army. Michael himself was dead but what he left in his wake was nothing short of a murderous nuisance. However, a pack of mutant werewolves had led the boys through a town that was experiencing the worst case of topsy-turvy logic Rowena had seen in a long time. 

 

After a few days of research Sam had figured out that things were so screwy because there were two people in the town who were supposed to have met but hadn’t. Everytime Sam and Dean tried to force them to meet something horrible would go wrong. It was as if they were opposing magnets, flinging away from each other when they got close. After trying all manner of spells to break the curse with no success the boys, after explaining all of this to her over the phone, had asked for her help. 

 

She hadn’t told them how she was going to get the information they needed, Niya didn’t like being too well known, but she  _ had _ agreed to help them and so here she was. Could the witch's curse be fraying the string like this?

 

“Is this their string?” Niya must have a sense of what’s going on, why else would she lead her to a red thread without any prompting?

 

“The Winchester and the Angel, yes.”

 

Rowena’s hand went to her chest as if she could’ve prevented the wild way it started beating. “Dean and Castiel?” The question came out as a whisper because her throat had gone dry. She looked back at the thread before her and the beating of her heart only got more painful. “How could this be?”

 

“I asked myself the same thing when the thread told me forge their bond.”

 

“No,” Rowena said with a small smile. She swallowed against the dryness and breathed deeply. “I’m not at all surprised that they have a red thread, you should see them together it’s disgustingly cute and just an all-around disaster. But why does it look like this?”

 

Niya made a sad humming noise but didn’t speak. When Rowena turned around to face her she was sitting in a chair that hadn’t been there before with a cup of tea in her hands. She gestured for Rowena to sit in the chair next to her. There was another teacup already filled and steaming beside an intricate silver teapot.

 

Rowena didn’t usually ask too many questions about the threads but she needed to know how a red fate string could end up like this so she could figure out how to fix it. Her chest squeezed tight in momentary panic as she sat next to Niya. She was very much a changed witch these days but she wasn’t sure when she’d started caring so much about the love life of a drunk hunter and a broken angel.

 

“It is a strong thread,” Niya said quietly gazing at the red string before them. “But naturally it is bound to fray.”

 

“You mean from the dangers of hunting?” She took a sip of the spiced orange tea and looked at Niya.

 

“Yes. I suppose that does have quite an impact on it,” Niya said. She was still staring at the string but her eyes had gone glassy and relaxed as if she were looking at something far away. Then a single tear slipped from her eye but she didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Bonds between immortals and mortals are fierce, filled with the kind of fire most can only dream of, but they are ultimately doomed from the start.”

 

Rowena almost laughed, “star crossed lovers and all that.”

 

“Shakespeare knew nothing of doomed love,” Niya spat. Then Rowena did laugh and Niya gave her a sidelong glance with a smile. But when she looked back to the thread she sighed heavily. “Romeo and Juliet were both mortal, Castiel is an angel. He is older than me and will outlive me if he does not get killed first.”

 

“Killed again,” Rowena said with a snort.

 

“As I understand it you should have been dead twice now. Not to mention the unnaturally long life you have led.”

 

Rowena huffed and looked back to the string. She had a point; those in glass houses and all that. If the angel did manage to not get killed again, how long  _ would _ he live?

 

As if reading her mind Niya said, “I am not sure even God knows how long angels live. They may be truly immortal.”

 

“I suppose no one but the angel themself will ever know,” Rowena said.

 

Niya made an agreeing noise in her throat. “Can you imagine being alive at the end of the universe?”

 

The question was like a vice grip on Rowena’s chest and she took a reflexive breath in against the pressure of it. Watching the universe collapse in on itself, an impossible amount of life and color and magic, crumbling into nothing wasn’t something she was capable of understanding fully. Even the barest thought of what it might feel like filled her with too much sorrow to form into coherent thoughts.

 

“Castiel will have to face the end of it alone, filled with the memory of love and passion and friendship. I am afraid the memories will only make it harder to bear.”

 

Rowena balked and set down her teacup, afraid she might spill the hot liquid. “You think he’d remember such a short time in his existence?”

 

Niya’s smile was rueful, “Love is an actual force that exists between all things Rowena. It is present throughout the entirety of the universe. It behaves much like what you humans call Dark Matter. Castiel is a being made of the very fabric of the universe, and love has permeated all that he is and will ever be, yes he will remember.”

“Maybe it will be better off if broken then,” Rowena said quietly. A flash of white-hot guilt ran through her veins at the words but she couldn’t help but taste truth on them.

 

“Perhaps it should not have been formed at all.”

 

She didn’t know how much time was moving ‘outside’ where Sam and Dean were, perhaps they were already calling her, wondering if she’d gone back on her word and bailed. What would someone in the bunker find if they opened the door to her room? Would she still be sitting on the floor in front of her spell? Or was she physically present in this realm? Rowena shook her head a few times and closed her eyes, they would have to wait, this was important to her for reasons she wasn’t willing or ready to look at.

 

“Would they have met if you hadn’t formed the thread?”

 

Now Niya’s smile reached her eyes, her whole face lighting up. Rowena never asked questions even though she knew how much Niya liked to answer them. “They might have. Based on the strength and width of their cord I would say yes. Humans call them the red threads of fate but ‘fate’ is much too strong of a word. It implies that those connected will be together for the rest of their days.”

 

“When it just means that they’ll met and nothing more?”

 

“Now here is where it gets so deliciously complicated,” Niya said with an even bigger grin. “When I create a red thread for two or more people-”

 

“Or more?” Rowena interrupted.

 

“Oh Rowena,” Niya said with exasperation. “You don’t think the universe cares about monogamy do you?”

 

She rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Instead she took a sip of tea and settled in to listen. If she remembered correctly Niya could get pretty terrifying if she was interrupted or ignored too often.

 

“As I was saying… when I create a read thread for two or more people they will meet, they have to meet, or the laws of life around them will start to bend out of control.”

 

Roweana opened her mouth to mention the case, the entire reason she was here in the first place, but shut it again when Niya shot her a dirty look.

 

“But having a red thread attached to you doesn’t eliminate free will. Nothing can get rid of free will. There are certain things that make it harder to act on, but humans will always have it.”

 

Niya took a sip of her tea and gazed at the poor thread still vibrating in front of them before continuing. “If am being honest, I did not think anything would come of the angel and the hunter. I thought they would meet and move on, but the angel did something that angels rarely ever do.”

 

Rowena swallowed the sip of tea she’d just taken and blinked a few times. “He exercised free will.”

 

“When people who are threaded together meet they are changed in very profound ways. Whether or not they remain together, they will never be rid of the connection, it will always be there. An itch just under the skin that they cannot scratch. But they  _ can _ part if they choose to.”

 

“Is it better if they part of their own will, rather than having a string break?” Rowena was sure she already knew the answer to this question but she was sinking into the plush armchair more and more, the sound of Niya’s voice easing the sad grip on her chest.

 

“It is much better, if my observations have been any indication,” Niya said. Then her face pinched and she closed her eyes and bowed her head. After a few moments she wiped some tears from her eyes and looked back up to Dean and Castiel’s frayed thread. “Those who part of their own free will have that consolation at least. They will live with chunks missing from their souls but, for the most part, they will move on.”

 

Rowena looked back to the thread and set her teacup down, her throat too dry now to swallow. The spiced orange tea was becoming tinny and cold, the fragrance no longer pleasant. There was a plate cream-colored cookies next to the teapot but she didn’t think she could stomach anything at the moment.

 

“If a thread breaks those attached to it will not realize it of course, no one with a red thread must know they have one,” at this Niya looked pointedly at Rowena who mimed turning a lock on her lips. “They will continue to try and come together. Sometimes those with broken connections succeed in being together, but not once in all my days have I seen happiness between those whose thread has been severed.”

 

“Why? I thought the threads didn’t interfere with free will?”

 

“I said they did not take it away completely. They certainly interfere to some degree.”

 

Rowena nodded but didn’t respond. Instead she closed her eyes, tired of the grip on her chest tightening every time she looked at the frayed hairs of Dean and Cas’ thread drooping down to the floor like blood dripping from a cut.

 

“The string will tangle or fray when those attached to it hurt each one another. It can also happen when others are hurt as a result of their love for each other. It takes a lot for these threads to break, especially ones as strong as this,” she said. “The kinds of things that shred and tangle a red fate thread are the kinds of things that rot and spoil love. They are the kinds of things that leave devastation too great to fix in their wake.”

 

“Devastation,” Rowena echoed hollowly. The case Sam and Dean were working came back to the forefront of her mind.

 

“Those who seek each other out once their thread has broken will not be able to find each other. Not in any meaningful way. They could get as close to each other as physically possible and their souls would reject each other.”

 

“Like opposing magnets,” Rowena said. Isn’t that how Sam had described to two people who hadn’t met but were supposed to? That was physical though, they could never seem to meet each other’s eyes or get close. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to desperately try and connect with someone who was always near you to no avail. 

 

“If their thread breaks they will not be forced apart,” Niya said lightly. 

 

“But they won’t ever connect again? Won’t be able to be there for each other?”

 

Niya was was looking at her now with drawn eyebrows like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

 

“What?” The question held more bite than Rowena had intended but all the talk of unhappiness and doomed loved was started to rub her nerves raw. 

 

“This conversation seems to have upset you,” she said.

 

Rowena looked back at the thread vibrating with strain and felt her shoulders slump forward. Of course those two idiots would’ve found ways to cut up their thread, their connection. If there was anything Dean Winchester did better than drink it was continually shut down relationships. Not that she cared enough to worry about it further. 

 

“So, what, another betrayal or possession and the thread will break?”

Niya didn’t answer her right away. She was still looking at Rowena like she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. She supposed it had been a while since she’d visited Niya. The last time would’ve been when she was still power-hungry to the detriment of anything and anyone around her. Perhaps it was the bunker, which she only just started thinking of as home, or Sam who was the only other unfortunate creature who knew what Lucifer’s true face was, but whatever it was  it had taken the edge off her incredibly lonely existence.

 

“Sometimes the last straw is just that, a light thing of little or no significance in the grand scheme of things,” Niya finally said.

 

“Well then what’s to be done?” Rowena asked.


End file.
